


Parent's Weekend

by thelonebamf



Category: This Is the Worst Idea You've Ever Had!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4703768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/pseuds/thelonebamf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the vampires, werewolves and psycho roommates, things have been going pretty well for Jordi and Jeremy. But how will things change when Jeremy's parents come to town?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parent's Weekend

"Oh shit... oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT!" Jeremy bolted upright before leaping over the back of the sofa, immediately pacing the length of the small apartment. "Shit. SHIT!"

  
Jordi stared blankly for moment before rising to meet him. Just moments ago he'd been telling the rather boring story of how his manager had changed the date of this quarter's inventory, opting for the end of February rather than the first weekend of March; it was nothing he could imagine even being of interest to the young man, let alone the cause for such alarm.

"Jeremy?" He tugged lightly at the fabric of the boy's sweatshirt. "What is the matter?"

  
It took a few seconds before Jeremy snapped back into reality, his eyes still wide with a look Jordi had not seen for some time. He wrung his hands briefly, taking a few deep breaths before speaking at last. "It's just... I forgot... first weekend of March."

"Yes?"

  
"It's Parent's Weekend."

  
"Oh."

"Yeah."

  
"Shit."  
-  
Sometime later the two were seated at Jordi's table, cups of coffee in front of them, although Jeremy ignored his cup, instead chewing absentmindedly on the drawstring of his hoodie.

  
"It just sorta slipped my mind, you know? Between the vampires and the werewolves and my crazy roommate and... and..."

  
"And us?" Jordi finished.

  
"Y-yeah," came the quiet reply. Silence grew between them as Jeremy's fingers nervously traced the handle of his mug. "It's not like they don't know about you. They know you exist. As a person. I mean mom gave me permission to stay during Thanksgiving, said I was being a good friend, even!" His voice was shakey and uneven, and Jordi's quiet acceptance of things only served to make him feel worse about the situation.

  
"I didn't mean it like that," he added hastily. "I just never know how to talk to my folks about these sorts of things. My dad," Jeremy paused as his fingers crept absentmindedly to his temples and into his hair. "I have a pretty clear idea of how he's gonna react when he finds out his son is a freak _and_ a faggot."

  
Blinking rapidly in an attempt to dismiss the stinging behind his eyes, Jeremy scarcely noticed Jordi behind him until he felt the warm pressure of his arms wrapping around his body.

  
"You don't 'ave to tell them anything you aren't ready to," came a soft whisper.

  
Jeremy's hands rose to sloppily wipe away the tears he'd failed to contain. "It's not you, you know that right?"

  
"I know."  
-  
"Grnnnnn!"

  
Jordi winced, almost capable of feeling the tension pouring out through his cell phone's speaker.

  
"That bad?"

  
"I tell you it was maybe the longest dinner in the history of the entire world ever. He just wouldn't shut up. 'Completing the pre-med requirements just makes good sense. That Miguel boy had the right idea, getting in to law. Taking French isn't going to help you in the business world!'" Jeremy rattled on in a cartoonish impression of his father.

  
"You were planning on taking French?"

  
"Um, maybe we can forget I said that for now," Jeremy answered, embarrassment growing.

  
Jordi cleared his throat, dismissing the slight smile that had crept onto his face despite the stressful nature of Jeremy's day. "So your father liked Miguel?"

  
Jeremy made a gagging noise in the back of his throat. "They met briefly on move in day. Ugh, and of course they hit it off right away. I could tell he was disappointed that he... 'transferred'. I think if he could have taken Miguel home after graduation instead of me, he'd have gone for it. '."

  
"I am sure that is not true," reassured Jordi.

  
"Hnnnh..." Jeremy groaned in response. "Maybe not. That's just how it feels. It just sucks. I never know what to say and it's awkward as hell and I just wish you could be there."

  
"Didn't you say that would be stressful?" Jordi asked, fiddling with the unlit cigarette between his fingers.

  
"Yes? No? I don't know. It would be better in some ways. At least I'd know one person at the table was on my side. Maybe you could tell cool stories about France and dad would forget to be disappointed in me for five whole minutes."

  
"I'm don't know if any of my stories qualify as 'cool'," came the reply. "But if you need me, of course I will be there."  
\--  
The following morning Jordi rose from his bed a full hour before his alarm sounded. He showered, silently preparing himself. After standing in front of his closet door for a full five minutes, he eventually made a selection, hoping that the plain dress shirt gave off an air of competence. Perhaps it was a lot to ask from a shirt. He denied himself the usual morning cigarette out of the vague fear of smelling too much like nicotine when meeting Jeremy's parents for the first time. A broke foreigner who barely made ends meet by working at the local liquor store was one thing; A broke foreigner who smoked might be one strike too many, and for Jeremy's sake he was determined to make the best impression possible.

  
He arrived at the restaurant a bit earlier than was strictly fashionable, but spent the time trying to remember exactly what his 'cool' stories were, or rather if he even had any. Before he could delve too far into his musings; however, he was interrupted by the sight of Jeremy walking through the door, followed swiftly by his parents. He said nothing, but his hunched posture and wary expression spoke volumes. Jordi sprung to his feet immediately, doing his utmost best to switch on the charm that was theoretically his birthright as a Frenchman.

  
"Jeremy, Mr. and Mrs. Lawson. It's such a treat to meet you, " he started, offering a handshake.

  
"S'quite an accent you've got there, young man," retorted Jeremy's father, ignoring Jordi's increasingly awkward outstretched arm, instead heading straight for the hostess stand. "What is that, French?"  
Jordi glanced at Jeremy whose only response was to shrug haplessly.

  
"O-oui."

  
He didn't have to turn to know the audible 'whap' was the sound of Jeremy's forehead hitting his hands.  
\--  
Within moments they were seated and waiting for their food to arrive. Mr. Lawson, or 'Gerald' as Jordi had learned, kept serving Jeremy pieces of bacon from his plate, insisting the boy eat more to "put on some muscle". Jeremy spent most of the meal surreptitiously sneaking the pieces underneath his toast, eyes never rising from the plate. Jordi thought the meal might somehow pass in silence until Gerald popped 'the question'.

"So what do you do, Jordan?" he boomed from across the table.

"I..." he paused, feeling foolish for not having prepared a better answer to the question, "...work in retail. Beer and wine?" he finished, wondering why he'd phrased it as a question. Gerald seemed to be oddly satisfied with the answer.

"Oh, I get you, yeah." He nodded, leaning back in his chair. "You should look in to getting hired by one of those fancy restaurants, you know? They pay good money for people who know that kind of stuff. Especially those who can, heh, 'talk the talk'." he finished with a grin.

The shrill ringing of Gerald's cell phone rand out before Jordi could disagree. 

"Gotta take this," he declared, rising sharply to leave.

A stunned silence settled on the table in the man's absence, and Jordi felt overcome by a sense of uselessness, limbs heavy at his side, eyes unable to make contact with Jeremy, who seemed unable to look at anything beyond his plate.

"Jeremy tells me you're in to photography," came a voice from across the table, a lifeline in the deepening waters of brunch-time conversation. "What got you in to that?"  
Jordi looked up to meet the pleasant smile of Jeremy's mother, who was idly tracing the lip of her water glass as she waited politely for an answer.

Feeling suddenly more at ease, Jordi launched effortlessly into his response. "I 'ave been fascinated by photographs for a long time," he began, "ever since I was a child." 

Jeremy peered up from his plate, daring to peek first at his mother, then towards Jordi.

"And what brought that about?" she gestured slightly with her glass, genuinely interested in the answer.

Jordi exhaled deeply, giving him time to consider his words carefully. "I suppose it is because photographs capture the world as it is for an instant. And sometimes, I think- it is difficult for us to recognize moments of significance as they 'appen", he paused, unaccustomed to speaking so long at once. "But with a photograph one is able to preserve a moment, any moment, forever. You can come back to it later, and appreciate that time for what it was." 

A smile crossed her face upon hearing the answer, and Jeremy's mouth opened slightly as though he might say something.

"We all done then? Where's our waitress?" Gerald returned the table snapping his phone shut and replacing it to the clip on his belt. He briskly signaled for the check in the air, sending their young server scurrying to the register.  
\--  
Outside, Jordi stood with the family as their waited for the valet to return with their car, slowly fastening the buttons of his jacket as Jeremy busied himself shuffling his feet on the cement.

"That you for the meal," he said with a slight bow of the head. "It was very kind of you."

"Least we could do, Jordan," Gerald retorted. "I mean, it's no 'retail-beer and wine' money, but we surgeons do all right." He smiled broadly, leaning in to add, "And should ever want a little work done, you know," he tapped a finger lightly to side of his nose, "we can get that taken care of, no problem."

"Oh my god, DAD!" Jeremy exclaimed, hands balled into tight fists at his side. All at once he stepped off the curb in an attempt to flee the situation, heedless of the valet's return.

Without a second thought, Jordi reached out to pluck the back of Jeremy's shirt, pulling him a few scant feet back into safety.

"Watch where you're going, J." Gerald shook his head, and he pulled the wallet from his pocket. "What's decent for a tip in this part of town anyway?"

Face nearly white, Jeremy found himself at a loss for words. He scarcely noticed when Jordi began gently patting him on the shoulder. 

"It's all right," he whispered with a weakening smile. "I'll see you soon."

With that, he turned and placed his helmet on his head before finding his motorcycle and riding off.

Car doors slammed, and the family was soon headed back to campus in awkward silence.

"A motorcycle, hmm?" questioned Jeremy's mother from the front. "That's pretty cool, right, Jer?"

"Fucking death trap," came a grumpy voice from the driver's seat. "Mark my words."  
\--  
Things were quiet for a few days after that, Jeremy preferring to maintain radio silence, only occasionally sending a text message to assure Jordi that he was fine, and "just had some stuff to work out". When Jordi found him sitting patiently on the floor outside the door of his apartment it came as a bit of a surprise.

"That can't be very comfortable," he said gently, shuffling his mail underneath his arm so he could offer a hand before unlocking the door.  
"Nothing's felt 'comfortable' for a while now," Jeremy mumbled, pulling himself to his feet. His gaze remained firmly fixed to the floor as he shuffled inside, eventually throwing himself unceremoniously onto the sofa with a sigh.

Without a word, Jordi closed the door behind them and took his place on the sofa beside him, leaning forward slightly, allowing his hands to drop between his legs as he waited for Jeremy to feel comfortable enough to talk. After a time he spoke, "It's really all right, Jere-"

"No! It's not all right!" Somewhere inside, the dam had broken and all at once every unspoken word began pouring out. "I just, I want them to know. Hell, I want everyone to know. But, like- the actual telling, it's just hard, and stupid. And sometimes I find myself hating my family and then I feel awful because some people don't even have a family, and then I feel bad for having feelings and it just ends up twisting around inside me and it's... it's stupid!" 

His hand reached out to grab Jordi's and he squeezed it tightly before adding, "Be-being with you, it's the happiest I've ever been, and the fact that I can't just man up and tell them so..." His eyes closed, and his voice dropped to just above a whisper. "You probably think I'm the worst..."

"Of course not," Jordi answered, using his free hand to gently brush tears from the boy's cheek. "This sort of thing is always going to be difficult, especially if you 'ave a father as obsessed with keeping up appearances as yours. And to be brutally realistic, the last thing you want is for your father to suddenly decide to stop paying for your education."  
Jeremy sniffed loudly, face warm from crying, "Yeah, I'd have to move in here with you and that'd really cramp your style."

"I.. uh," Jordi sputtered in shock, but the smile growing on Jeremy's face reassured him.

"Yeah. Then.. then I'd get a job at the ABC store and then you'd have to see me all day! You'd never get away from me!" His body shook slightly, caught awkwardly between the ebbing sobs and laughter.  
Jordi planted a kiss on the top of his head. "There 'ave been crueler fates."  
\--

The next morning, Jeremy's outlook seemed to have improved dramatically. He'd even woken up early to sneak away and bring back doughnuts and coffee for the two of them. Jordi was lost in thought, debating the various merits of sprinkles versus jelly when his train of thought was interrupted.

"...oh shit."

Jordi turned from the kitchen counter to find Jeremy staring at the pile of mail unceremoniously spread out on the kitchen table.

"It's from my mom."

Jordi took the evelope in his hand and inspected it. Indeed, it was from Mrs. Lawson, and had in fact been addressed to him. Giving Jeremy a surprised shrug, he slid a finger along the top to open it.

_Dear Jordi,_

_It was lovely to finally meet you this past weekend. Thank you for taking time from your schedule to join us. I can't tell you how happy I am to know that you're the one taking care of my special boy. I can tell you're an insightful young man, and you're right- sometimes we don't recognize the precious moments until they've slipped away._

_Hopefully someday I'll get to see some of your photographs, but for now, here is one from my special collection._

Peeking back in the envelope, Jordi discovered a small portrait, slightly worn at the edges which seemed fair, as it was clearly over a decade old. Gazing back at him with a wide grin was the face of a young rabbit boy, large ears dwarfing his youthful face, only adding to the innocent charm of his expression.

  
"...Did she.. did she know you knew?" Jeremy asked, confused.

  
"Maybe. Or perhaps she understood that it wouldn't matter." He flipped the photo over and offered it to Jeremy. "It is all right if you would rather keep this yourself."

  
"No, no, you should have it," Jeremy shook his head. "Put it.. in your wallet or something. Stick it on the fridge. You'll have to look at my goofy face every time you want a drink."

  
"There's always the chance that someone might see it," Jordi mentioned cautiously.

  
"Maybe... maybe that's okay. Maybe it's all right if people start to see the real me."

 

**Author's Note:**

> So... I had to just imagine a name for Jeremy's father, who I think I probably made way too mean in this story. We don't have a lot to go on for him, other than the fact that he thought it was necessary to operate on his very young son just to make him appear more "normal".


End file.
